In the Middle of the Night
by MonAlice
Summary: Dead tired Hawkeye and a nightly visit of an unexpected nature. HM obviously.One-shot for now.


A slightly overused MASH 4077th chief surgeon was slumping on his cot, tentmade martini dry (sans olive, with a hexagonal screw nut instead) in his right hand, a set of elaborately arranged pillows under his left elbow

Set right after the episode 6x10 'The MASH Olympics'.

Disclaimer: Sadly nothing and no one from MASH universe belongs to me. I come, I toy, I escape the law suit.

This little plot bunny really has a set of nasty claws of steel. :P It hooked me yesterday, and wouldn't let go of me till I wrote all of this. And as I'm in the middle of writing a pretty serious, angsty story for "Firefly", I found writing this one out quite hilarious. Hope you guys have at least half as much fun reading as I had writing, and don't be too harsh on me if you don't like it. It's my first MASH story so I'm a bit stressed. Obviously HM

_To Maple Fay, and TV reruns for respectively sharing and/or enticing my madness:)))_

**In the middle of the night**

A slightly overused chief surgeon was slumping on his cot facing the door, tentmade martini dry (sans olive, with a hexagonal screw nut instead) in his right hand, a set of elaborately arranged pillows under his left elbow. He erected them himself, and he thought proudly they could easily pass for a decent chaise lounge, even if their chance to do so tonight was steadily growing slim.

"_Well at least __**something**__ in this tent got erected today._" his thought was tainted with grim humor. The tent was empty, as on his request BJ managed to drag the Grunting Prince von Whine-Cheddar out of the safety of his Elgrey Keep, into the wilderness of the Rosie's establishment. Hawkeye had had certain plans for the evening involving some post-olympic exercise and needed to execute them in semi-privacy, but so far he didn't get further then sitting alone and pouting in an unmanly fashion. Oh well, not like _some people _he never claimed he was manly- he preferred others to do that for him. Now, as the tiredness of eighteen hours in OR, and almost forty-five minutes of waiting was starting to seep in, he suddenly heard a silent knock on the door.

"_Finally!_" he thought- his spirits easily raised again. He poised himself ready, wearing his best red robe with a matching lecherous grin. "Hail and welcome, lady of the night —" the rest of his cheesy greeting died on his lips when he saw his late night guest.

It's not that he didn't expect a drop-dead gorgeous nurse to appear on his doorstep, it's just that he sure as hell did not expect this particular one. However hot she may or may not be. Still, after a moment's thought he shrugged and went for the usual teasing mode.

"Good evening, Margaret. What an honor to welcome you in my humble abode " his voice was purposely deepened. She looked unusually unsure of herself- kept casting furtive glances all around the tent, as if to check the surroundings. Which meant she either was afraid to be alone with him, or came to spill her guts about something. Funny thing was, she was looking extra hot this night. Her trademark hair-bun on top of her head, was exposing her pink shaded cheekbones. A wine-red silky robe reaching only till her mid-thigh, had a nice deep v-shaped cleavage, and did not do a good job of hiding her almost naked form from his hawk eyes of a surgeon. A better man would just hear her out. Or politely ask her to leave. But he was just himself- mean and tired, with no views of getting _any_ this night- so he decided to goad her instead. It was her own fault anyway- she came here looking darn hot, and left him such a huge gap to fill in with words. Having spent two years in the very same unit with him, she should have known better. He grinned devilishly.

"Why Margaret, why the meaningful silence?" he purred. "Don't tell me…You have finally decided to have a piece of this — " She watched him lick his index finger suggestively, and draw a line with it from his clavicle to the breastbone ." finely defined body, and you just don't know how to ask!" In his mind he was already relishing in her predictable reply. Probably something involving threatening him to chop off the said piece from the said body or something equally thrilling. Yet she remained silent, her cryptic gaze still fixed on his face. He felt uneasy, but decided to continue. She was bound to break soon, wasn't she?

"Don't you worry, milady !" He bowed courtly, sweeping the floor with an imaginary hat " Your shyness is your virtue and I shall not make thee break it, nor let any other virtue diminish it! Off with your virtues. And most of all, with_the_ Virtue. Off with it! Off, however tarnished it may be by now!" – he was just getting started when Margaret finally delivered a most unexpected of answers. She closed the distance between them in one swift movement, kissing him hard, and his lips were suddenly and shockingly sealed with Hotlips. When his mind kicked in again after what he thought was a good several seconds, he broke the make out session reluctantly. He viewed her strangely but remained speechless.

She looked at him with a mischievous twinkle." You know, I always suspected this would pretty much shut you up." she quipped grinning. He held her at the arm's length, and sighed.

"What is it Margaret? Not that I complain but what has brought this on, all of the sudden? Is something wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Her wide eyes sparkled with unfeigned innocence, as she shrugged. "I just need a man, and you always seem to be willing to oblige. Plus shutting you up for a while was just too good of a treat for a gal to pass. " she smiled smugly.

_T__his_ was new. Well, not the shutting up part to which he did not remain oblivious to, nor the being smug part which almost always looked good on her, but her admission of need- this was something quite unheard of. He viewed her carefully. She was flushed after the kiss they shared, and he knew that most definitely he would not be utterly against 'obliging', but there still was something intangibly uncanny about the whole situation.

"Is something wrong? " she echoed his sentiment from mere moments ago. "Are you unable to perform? You know, I mean physically." Were he still lip-joined to his martini glass, he would be choking and spluttering right about now. He chose graciously turning red instead.

"Don't worry." she viewed him sympathetically " I can help you." she chirped slithering her way back into his arms. She was also rubbing her pelvis against him, and gazing up flirtatiously. Something was _seriously_ wrong. Either unbeknownst to him, he's fallen into some alternate universe, or she was pulling the worst pay-back prank ever in the history of the kind. She kissed him again, and he kissed her back, though this time without much conviction. His mind was still stuck in the mental shelling zone, with a little chance to get out soon. He was staring at her with a fixed expression of utter amazement.

"Hawk, don't think about it too much." she ordered kissing him delicately on the chin, before attacking his mouth once more. Passionately. She nipped and sucked, and cooed him like a baby. "Now look," a nip "I can already " a suck " _feel_" a lick " you _are_ getting better." a plunge with a tongue twist, that left him breathless and gave her the opportunity to actually deliver a full sentence again." I mean, for Frank this problem has always been like a daily bread." Hawkeye's mind caught on to something familiar in her speech and clung to it dearly.

"Yes, yes! What about Frank ?Can't Frank help you out?!" Even he was hearing the panic in his voice. "I mean you've always 'burned for Burns' haven't you?! " He knew was playing dirty now, but all he currently wanted was for his world to return to normal. Normal! Hell, he'd welcome a nice batch of wounded right about now! She looked at him strangely and then shook her head.

"Hawkeye!" slight disapproval in her face "You know me, I need a _man_, not a _ferret_!"

Her expectant look made him bend a bit, and kiss her properly, while his mind was mulling over the things that were just said. When he was done, he stopped kissing her quite rapidly, but was still almost prevented from articulating any thought, when her right hand started caressing his left buttock in a way that was sinfully pleasurable.

"Damn! Stop being so good at distracting me! You _do_ have a man. A very _manly_ man too! What about Donald ??"

"What about him?" She continued unfazed.

"He's your husband!"

"Says Benjamin, Patron Saint of Marital Sanctimony " She shot him a dismissing glance and returned to kissing him. He remained rigid so she stopped and sighed deeply.

"Look. If it bothers you so much- and with your history I honestly don't know why it should- let's put it this way: Donald is bound to cheat on me anyway, so I'm only countering the possible blow." Her logic might be lacking some fundamental reasoning in the real world, but as she leaned forward expectantly, and he found himself drawn into a kiss, he decided it was good enough for him, his last defenses melting like a popsicle in the Korean summer. The kissing ensued, getting more and more heated, also by the banter they kept up during this more physical form of sparring.

"He probably will." he quipped -"He_ so_ looks the type who would do that"

"Cheat on me, you mean? Well, surely _you_ would know" She bit his lip teasingly.

"Hey!" he yelped "That was true, but unkind!" he pouted.

"Hm" She pulled him to the cot and traced feather light kisses along his neck and earlobe. "Is that better?" she asked. His panting was the only answer. "And this?" She moved down his chest, ridding him of the upper part of the robe in the process.

"Much." he croaked and pulled her up into a deep searching kiss, already willing for the further exploration. They were working in sync, she- untying his robe belt, he- getting rid of hers. It was in this moment that the poor and overloaded cot gave out last squeak of protest and folded, quite painfully sending them to the floor.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Hawkeye panted as he as he came to. He looked around in vain search for Margaret. It all figured. He was tired. He dozed off and fell from bed which prematurely finished his very enjoyable dream. But why on Earth would he be dreaming about Margaret of all people ?! For heaven's sake! She wasn't even around- she went to Tokyo earlier in the day. It must have been the damned shorts she was wearing during the Olympics. And the exhaustion. _And_ the lack of a well deserved innuendo. All of these combined. Nothing more.

He shivered. He was soaking with sweat, and a strange feeling of anxiousness was slowly crawling up his spine. He felt uneasy, like he was missing something very important.

A/N

The ending is a bit cruel, but it was deliberate. Now don't beat me up- I will explain. I am- among other things- a huuuge fan of BTVS and it's Spuffy pairing. In BTVS series a Vampire named Spike, is filled with predictable amount of (passionate) hate for his natural enemy- the Slayer. That is until he falls for her (no less passionately). One of key moments of this storyline, is Spike's first onscreen dream of kissing Buffy, and then the shock of the awakening. (evil grin). So I just wanted to grant Hawkeye a Spike-like awakening. (laughing madly). I mean honestly, he _needs_ to be shaken to notice what is good :) This dream would also be sort of a prelude to things that happen and are discussed on "Comrades in arms". Another piece of foreboding that I couldn't resist was Margaret's : "Donald is bound to cheat on me anyway" line. Hawk's sub consciousness is definitely trying to tell him something. Now what might _that_ be? :P

Also I wrote both Margaret and Hawkeye at least slightly out of character. As much as Margaret's behavior can be accounted for by the dreamlike reality, it's a bit different with Hawkeye. I think I made him cruder, but he _is_ tired, frustrated and in the safety of his own mind that he's in, and that's my excuse.

Obviously I toyed with the timeline as well ( Frank and Donald coexisting in Hawk's mind as Margaret _current_ partners, with Winchester being already there physically?), just to leave pointers that this was a dream,- I'm saying that just in case someone would like to hang me for inaccuracy :) Please don't, OK? :)

Another remote pointer was the title, as Billy Joel's 'The River of Dreams' started stalking me from the moment I began writing this. Mostly with "In the middle of the night, I was walking in my sleep" line.

The plot bunny has some possible follow up ideas so it would dearly like some feedback to start nagging me again :) . Thanks a heap for those of you who got this far. :)


End file.
